Two to Tango
by Morfiwien Greenleaf
Summary: Harold Hill and Marian Paroo have been happily married for twelve years. But what happens when Harold stumbles upon an old tango record in his mother-in-law's attic?
1. Two's Company

The trouble began when Marian Paroo Hill decided to bob her hair. After a lifetime of wearing it pinned back and tucked out of sight, she was itching for a change. She wasn't the first female in River City to adopt the new style – practically all the women below forty had cut their hair in the four years since the ratification of the nineteenth amendment. As Marian was only thirty-eight years old, she figured she was still young enough to do something foolish and fashionable.

And one would think that, after twelve years of marriage, a woman had earned the right to wear her hair however she chose! Heaven knew she didn't have time to maintain an elaborate chignon, especially when she had her hands full with the twins. It had been quite the shock to Marian when she gave birth not to one child, but two – and both of them daughters! When Harold had heard the news, he only laughed and said it figured he ended up outnumbered three to one.

After careful consideration and a bit of leafing through the classics, they decided to call the girls Penelope and Elinor – elegant names that would still wear well. But the ever-practical River City-ziens promptly shortened things to Penny and Elly. After a futile battle – which was fought mostly by Marian, as Harold adored the new nicknames – Marian surrendered and only addressed the girls by their full names when she was scolding them.

And to her dismay, she ended up doing this quite often. With their honey-blonde curls and china-doll complexions, the twins may have taken after their mother in appearance, but they had their father's gregariousness and zeal for life. Of course, the girls' personalities weren't entirely the same: Penny, the elder twin, was more rambunctious and adventurous than her sister – and the mastermind of most of their tomfoolery. Elly, on the other hand, was more staid and retiring, preferring to read and play the piano instead of spending every moment outdoors. But Elly did have a mischievous streak, which made her a willing participant in several of her older sister's schemes.

And Penny was always up to something: When she turned six, she proudly declared that she wanted to be an explorer. To practice for her future career, Penny planned and launched bold expeditions that usually resulted in her returning home with a muddy dress, scraped knees and some ghastly animal or plant specimen. Privately, Marian liked to tease Harold that Penny was the son he never had.

Penny also delighted in taking risks that sometimes led to injury – at the mere age of five, she had broken her arm after taking a dare from one of the boys to touch the top of the flagpole outside City Hall. Penny had succeeded in this quest, but halfway down the flagpole, she lost her grip and went tumbling to the ground. This little fiasco put her out of commission for an entire summer and, though Penny was disappointed, Marian was secretly relieved to have her daughter under their roof for a little while.

Marian and Harold could always tell their daughters apart, but it wasn't so easy for everyone else in town. Naturally, Penny and Elly took full advantage of this as soon as they were old enough to realize they could. Marian would never forget that exasperating July during the twins' eighth year – the phone had rung off the hook almost daily as the victims of the girls' pranks called to express their displeasure.

At first, Marian was at her wit's end on how to deal with this new ploy, but when Harold came up with the brilliant solution of automatically punishing both twins whenever one of them misbehaved – even if the culprit was clearly identifiable – life had settled back down into some semblance of normalcy. But Marian was sure the twins would eventually get up to some fresh mischief; they always did.

Harold had told her the world didn't need another charming charlatan, but now there seemed to be two in the making! Though the twins seemed to cause more trouble than their fair share, they were so winsome and amiable they got away with a lot more than they probably should have. Fortunately, Harold's familiarity with this pattern in his own childhood gave him unique insight into dealing with such challenges and, under his careful hand, the girls were becoming conscientious, upstanding young ladies.

It also helped that the twins had inherited their mother's honest temperament: If they didn't like something, they did not hesitate to make their displeasure known. Marian was actually quite nervous about showing them her new bob – she hadn't told anyone she was planning to shorten her hair. But to her delight, Penny and Elly had nothing but effusive compliments. The moment they saw their mother's new coiffure, they oohed and aahed and begged to be allowed to bob their own hair. When Marian told them that one major fashion change per decade was enough for their household, they vowed they would count the years until they could be as beautiful as their lovely mother.

Harold's reaction was a bit more underwhelming. As soon as he walked through the door that night, he stopped mid-step and stared at Marian with a stunned expression.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked shyly, running her fingers through her curls.

He grinned. "Been watching a lot of newsreels, lately? You look like Roxie Hart!"

Marian raised an eyebrow. She didn't find being compared to Chicago's "sweetest little jazz killer" all that flattering – no matter how attractive the woman was. "Is that supposed to be a compliment, darling?"

In response, Harold gave her a wink and tweaked one of her curls.

XXX

Two nights later, when Marian was closing the library, Harold showed up alone. His presence was a pleasant surprise – on the one or two days each week she worked until evening, Harold and the twins always arrived to escort her home (or as happened more often, to the Candy Kitchen for strawberry phosphates). But in the past few weeks, Marian had only been met by the girls.

She couldn't remember the last time it was just her and Harold walking together. Now that they were alone, Marian felt a resurgence of that exhilarating romantic spark from the early, heady days of their marriage. She beamed at her husband. "Where are Penny and Elly?"

His eyes twinkled. "Last I saw our dear daughters, they were happily anticipating a long visit with Winthrop and Amaryllis."

Marian's heart began to beat a little faster. It had been several weeks since Harold made arrangements for the girls to be elsewhere. "How long do you expect they will be gone?" she asked, trying to keep her voice nonchalant.

Harold's arm stole around her waist. "Oh, I'd say until tomorrow morning – at least."

XXX

They started their romantic evening as they usually did – sharing tea and conversation together in the parlor. Only this time, Harold kept reaching over and tweaking her curls. This had become a habit with him ever since he had come home to find her with bobbed hair. Whether it was a fond gesture of affection or a childish way of expressing his displeasure, Marian couldn't determine. Either way, her husband certainly seemed to be enjoying himself.

But Marian was growing irritated. After he had tugged on her hair for what seemed like the twentieth time, she swatted his hand away. "What do you keep doing that for? I'm not a bell pull!"

"Just getting a feel for your new style, my dear," he said impishly. "You look so young with bobbed hair!"

She rolled her eyes. "I suppose next you'll say I should be donning a pinafore!"

As Harold laughed at her retort, she saw the crinkles around his eyes and mouth, and the faint streaks of gray in the hair above his ears. "I'm just concerned people will think I'm your father," he teased. "Or perhaps your john."

After twelve years of marriage, Marian did not blush too often, but at her husband's ribald remark, she felt her cheeks crimsoning in a way they hadn't since she was a new bride. "Harold!" she exclaimed, giving a shocked laugh.

He chuckled ruefully. "Was that too indelicate? I apologize, darling." But Harold didn't look particularly sorry; his eyes still gleamed with mischief.

"You're terrible!" she scolded – though she still shook with laughter. "This conversation has definitely taken a sharp turn for the worse!"

"I quite agree, Madam Librarian," he said gravely. "How about a little music to raise the tone in here?" He stood up and went over to the Victrola. Marian was reduced to hysterics yet again by his prim, foppish walk.

"As long as you don't put on _The Charleston_ again!" she retorted, taking her place by his side. "We broke a lamp last time, remember?"

Harold grinned as he selected a record from their collection. "No, I was thinking about something a little… slower." He finished winding up the Victrola, and the sound of a familiar, provocative tango filled the air.

Marian froze. Suddenly, she was twenty-six again, and standing on the sidewalk in front of her mother's house.

"_Wait a minute, Mr. Cowell. You don't know me very well – yet!"_

"_Is that an invitation, girly-girl?"_

Marian hadn't thought about her encounter with the anvil salesman in years. And now Harold was bringing it all back as he sauntered toward her with slow, seductive steps, a sly smile on his face. Despite her horror, Marian could never turn down a dance with Harold – she found herself backing away in unison. "Where did you get that?" she gasped.

Harold seemed to mistake her dismay for pleasure; he reached out and pulled Marian into his arms. "It was sitting at the bottom of a box of dishes deep in your mother's attic. I found it when we were helping her clean things out last week. The cover was coated with mildew – we're lucky the record still plays!"

"Yes – lucky," Marian muttered as Harold led her through the dance. She knew she should have broken that blasted record when she had the chance! If it had been hers, she would have done so, but it was her mother's, and she hesitated to take such liberties with another person's possessions. Though if Marian had known the record would come back to haunt her like this, she wouldn't have had any qualms about smashing it into pieces!

Harold gazed thoughtfully at his wife. "Is anything the matter, sweetheart? You seem a little distant this evening."

Marian forced herself to smile. "I'm sorry, darling," she said contritely. "I just never particularly cared for the tango."

"Well, that's a real shame," he replied in his low, velvety voice. "You dance it so beautifully." Giving her the look that always made her melt, he dipped her. But as her husband leaned in for a kiss, Marian saw Charlie Cowell's leering face.

"_What am I doing? If I miss that train I'll lose my job, and I've got to leave word about that fella Hill!"_

"_Leave word with me."_

"_Not on your tintype, girly-girl! How do I know you'll deliver these letters?"_

"_Try me!"_

Just as Harold's lips were about to touch hers, Marian pushed him away.


	2. Three's a Crowd

Knocked off balance, Harold reeled backward. With his reflexes, he might have been able to recover pretty easily – if he hadn't stumbled over a nearby footstool. Luckily, the sofa broke his fall.

Aghast, Marian rushed over to her husband and helped him up. "Harold! Are you all right?"

"Marian – have you taken leave of your senses?" he asked, gasping for breath.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried. "I didn't mean to push you that hard!"

"But you did mean to push me, apparently," he teased – though he still sounded a bit sore. "I guess you weren't kidding when you said you didn't care for the tango! Are there any other dances we should avoid in the future, as well?"

Marian blushed. "It's not that I don't like the tango – it's this particular song."

Harold looked intrigued. "I did wonder what a record was doing in a box of dishes. I take it you were the one who hid it there?"

She nodded sheepishly. "Twelve years ago this July."

As ever, Harold was quick to make the connection. He hastened to the Victrola and brought the music to a scratching halt. Then he turned back to his wife. "Marian," he said carefully. "I don't wish to pry, but does your loathing of the tango date specifically from the night I first called on you at home?"

Her blush deepened. "Harold, suppose I was to tell you that you weren't the only gentleman caller I received that evening?"

He gave her a sly smile. "Is that so?"

Marian couldn't help but laugh a little at the absurdity of the situation. She never thought she'd ever be telling her husband this story – especially twelve years after the fact! "Well, just before you stopped by, I was visited by an anvil salesman named – "

" – Charlie Cowell!" Harold finished, realization dawning in his eyes. "So he's the one who got you all riled up with his 'rumors and things,' was he? I knew I should have decked him when I had the chance!"

"Believe me, I would not have been sorry if you did!" Marian said with spirit.

He chuckled. "Well, we'll have to call it a missed opportunity, and leave it at that. So you were saying?"

"Mr. Cowell was looking for the Shinn house – for reasons you can probably guess. Then he noticed the 'Piano Given' sign in the parlor window, so he told me why he was in town. I expect he thought he'd find an ally in his quest for vengeance."

Harold raised an eyebrow at her. "And did he?"

"Of course not!" she said hotly. "How could you even think for a moment that I'd willingly assist such a vile man?"

"Well, I find it hard to reconcile the idea of you recoiling from him one moment, and then tangoing with him the next – which is where I assume this story is going," he replied wryly. "So how did you happen to end up dancing with that sorry excuse for a salesman?"

Marian was torn between embarrassment and amusement. "Must I really say? It was so long ago!"

"I'm rather enjoying seeing you squirm, Madam Librarian," he said with a mischievous grin. "You haven't blushed like this since we were newly wed."

She swatted at him, but he easily dodged her. "Oh, all right, I'll tell you," she sighed. "When Mr. Cowell came by, Mama thought he was you – she was watching from the parlor – so she put on that record. It was the perfect distraction: I coaxed Mr. Cowell into dancing with me so he wouldn't have time to alert Mayor Shinn about you before he had to catch his train."

"Well, it's no wonder you hate the tango!" he said sympathetically. Then he looked at her with shrewd eyes. "But that still doesn't completely explain why you pushed me away when I tried to kiss you, just now."

Marian winced – she was hoping she wouldn't have to reveal this little detail. "I had to do a little more than dance with Mr. Cowell to get him to stay," she admitted.

Harold's smile faded. "And what was that?"

"I kissed him," she confessed. When Harold didn't reply, she went on: "It was dreadful. He reeked of tobacco – when he pulled me closer, I thought I was going to gag! But I couldn't let go, not until I heard the whistle of the train pulling out of the station. It's funny; I haven't thought of this in years! But there's something about music that stirs up the dregs of one's subconscious. Hearing that tango again brought back all those awful feelings – the way he leered at me, the things he said about you – all this on the first romantic night we've had in ages! And then you dipped me exactly the way he did – " Marian paused and gazed wistfully at her still-silent husband. "He was my first kiss, and I had so wanted it to be you."

"Oh, darling," Harold said in a gentle voice. Without another word, he took her in his arms and held her. That was the wonderful thing about Harold; he always knew just what to say – and when to leave things unsaid.

It was Marian who broke the silence. "I'm sorry I ruined our evening."

"How can you say that?" he admonished. "Especially when I haven't even given you your present yet!"

She was immediately suspicious. "Harold… this doesn't have anything to do with why you've been so busy these past several weeks, does it? I've been wondering what you've been up to!"

"You know me too well, my dear little librarian," he said ruefully, removing an envelope from his pocket and handing it to her.

Marian opened the envelope. The first thing she saw was a postcard of a couple canoodling in front of the Eiffel Tower. On the back, Harold had written, _Together in Paris? _Behind the postcard were two train tickets. Marian gaped at her husband with astonished elation.

Harold grinned. "I thought we'd take the train to New York City, and then board an ocean liner. We'll leave in the middle of May and return home just before Flag Day."

"Paris in the springtime!" she gasped. "When did you start planning _this_?"

"The idea of going abroad with you has always been in the back of mind," he replied. "But the right time never seemed to arise, what with the birth of the twins, and then the war. And of course there was the financial aspect to consider. But after a few years of careful planning, I can finally take you on the trip of your dreams."

Marian still couldn't believe what she was holding in her hands – she and Harold had never even crossed the state line together. And they had certainly never been apart from their children for more than a day or two. "Do the twins know about this? I can't imagine they'll be thrilled about being left behind in Iowa, Penny in particular!"

"Penny and Elly weren't too pleased at first," he acknowledged. "But by the time we were finished with our conversation, they were thrilled at the prospect of having a whole month with no parents to cramp their style."

Marian burst into laughter. "Harold Hill – still the consummate salesman! But heaven knows what kind of trouble the girls will get into while we're gone," she fretted.

"Try not to worry about it too much, darling," he said soothingly, taking the postcard and tickets from her and placing them on the mantle. "Amaryllis, Winthrop and your mother assured me they would keep a good eye on Penny and Elly while we're gone." Harold reached out and drew Marian into his arms. "We've both been a bit frazzled lately – we could use a second honeymoon."

As Harold hugged her, she gazed fondly at the postcard and tickets. "We don't leave for a little over a month – I'm amazed you let the cat out of the bag so early!"

"Well, I was going to wait a few more weeks, but I figured I'd better break the news now" – he tweaked one of her curls – "before you resort to even more drastic measures to get my attention!"

She gave him a sad smile. "You hate my hair, don't you?"

"No, I don't," he said honestly. "I think it suits you quite well. It just takes a little getting used to, that's all. I mean, put yourself in my shoes: I've spent over a decade coming home to a wife with a chignon, so suddenly seeing you with bobbed hair was quite the surprise! I really would've appreciated prior warning." He wagged a finger at her.

"Prior warning!" Marian exclaimed. "Why do I always have to be the sensible and considerate one? You talk of the tribulations of being the only man in a house full of women – but you and Penny and Elly are peas in a pod! The three of you all have your secret plans, and I'm always the last to know about anything. So I thought, why couldn't I do something unexpected, for once? And another thing – "

Before Marian could say anything more, Harold kissed her. She happily acquiesced to his embrace – especially when she felt him shiver as her hair brushed against his face. So she shook her head a little, and then a little more, until Harold pulled away.

"You little vixen!" he said approvingly. "I was just thinking how much I was going to miss slowly removing the pins from your chignon, but I could get used to this." He took a few curls in his hand and kissed the tips of them.

Their eyes met. When Harold didn't say anything, she gave a subtle nod in the direction of the stairs.

He grinned. "Just one more thing." Ending their embrace, he walked over to the Victrola. Marian thought he was going to close the cover, but instead, he put the needle back on the record.

"Harold," she said apprehensively as the music started again, "what are you doing?"

"An exorcism, if you will," he replied. When she balked, he gave her a look. "Do you really want to let that second-rate hawker of anvils ruin a perfectly good tango?"

"Well, when you put it that way… " She took his hand.

Harold pulled her close. "I promise you, darling, after we're through, you won't even remember the man's name."

"What man?" Marian asked dreamily as her husband dipped her.

"No one at all," Harold assured her, and closed in for that kiss.

XXX

… _And they lived happily ever after! (Seriously, I mean it this time. Well, for now, anyway!)_


End file.
